Once and Future Queen

Queen Bitch, that is.

I have been losing whatever patience I had with the Noodle Dude lately. Seems he's lost (or stifled) the ability to L.I.S.T.E.N. It doesn't much matter what I am saying, he apparently hears, "Wah, wha, wah, wha, wha" like the Peanuts adults.

Grrrr!

So, enter my past and present BFF: Bach Flower Essences Rescue Remedy!

These little bottles contain liquid calm - it is so effective that when I was smack in the throes of PPD after Noah's birth (gawd, that was an AWFUL time) and I took this stuff, I almost invariably passed out. Knowing it's effect, I was careful to take it when someone else was there to mop up the spit up and change the shitty-bum diapers.

Now it's more a matter of threshhold resetting. When my tolerence for the life of a 4-year-old is on a razor thin edge, I place a couple drops under my tongue or pop in a pastille and the borderline recedes to a safe distance. Flying blocks and banging magnets, scooters in the living room and random too loud noises are much less stree-inducing.

Funny warning comes with the pastilles - appears they have a slightly laxative effect. Good thing it usually only takes ONE to do the job! (Of keeping me calm, not getting things moving.)

As The Little Globe Spins

I'm feeling a little sleepy even though I didn't get up terribly early AND I took a nap this afternoon. This holiday weekend provided me with a well-timed break. I got to play in a lake all day on Friday with a good friend, just hang around and relax today, and I still have tomorrow to do "responsible" things, like laundry and bill paying.

There's one more thing I've been asked to do tomorrow as well: create a memorial DVD for a close friend who lost her mother on Thursday. Perhaps that's part of why I feel drained. Let me explain - I am honored to help my friend remember her mother. At the same time, I have to put up a wall to keep my own heart from breaking, protect myself from the inevitable worry about my own mother's mortality. I still have two living grandparents, so it's almost inconceivable to me that either of my parents could possibly pass.

Juxtaposed with those largely ignored feelings, I have been feeling the first little twinges of new life in my belly. My sister, currently pregnant with her first child, described it feeling to her like an "angel running in place". Probably my favorite description ever.

So the little globe spins and the cycle continues...

1779/1476

Stumped? Yeah, well, that's the number of emails in my inbox SLASH the number that are unread.

Scratch that. That's what it displayed this morning before I finally went through the mess and cut it down to less than 50. How the hell did it get so freakin' bad?!?! I'm essentially lazy. Wait, I've been here before. Okay, so perhaps I'm not lazy exactly, but I am a procrastinator. And who has time to adjust the settings on their email to get rid of more SPAM? Or delete the emails you've read and don't need to save (do we really need to save any emails ever)? Or unsubscribe from fifty-thousand sites that you don't even remember having given your email address to in the first place?

I dunno. Guess now that it's empty, it'll be easier to keep clean. Right? Hah! And I'll get plenty of sleep after the baby's born, too!

This Is What Happens, Part 2

This one was supposed to go with the first part, but Blogger ate the video.
Good ol' YouTube came to the rescue!

This Is What Happens...

... when you give a 4-year-old a camera.

... when he takes pictures of Mommy.

... when he gets a pretty good shot.

(Good thing it's a digital - he took THIRTY altogether.)

... when you find a gargantuan creepie crawly in your bathroom.

(He's waiting for transport outside. What? You didn't think I was going to take him out myself?!? He really was scary.)


... when you try to take a picture of your own butt because you can't believe it's growing as fast as it is.

(It's never a great thing that your arse is taking on larger proportions, even when you are pregnant.)

Sometimes I Wonder

I haven't left myself much time for a post today. I've started drafting two other posts, but neither is ready yet.

So I'll just go with what stumped me today. This is what was open in a browser window when I got home from work today:

So, the screen shot smaller than I thought it'd be and I don't feel like making it bigger. It's a video explaining why the moon landing is a hoax. I know the 4-yr.-old wasn't watching it. I doubt the cat was. Which leaves only one suspect.

What did we do before YouTube?!?

Oh, to be Pioneer Woman…

I had a post mostly ready yesterday then found myself too stretched for time. (Yeah, yeah, so I used my blogging time to post photos of my little dude on Facebook for friends and family.) Maybe I’ll blame it on Kyddryn’s lovely chicken! (Because, you know, I couldn’t have used her wireless internet to post last night or anything and did I really need that nap I took?)

On to today’s muse – to inimitable The Pioneer Woman. I fully admit that I have only read a very modest portion of her lovely site yet find myself in awe, jealous and ultimately inspired. (Over TEN THOUSAND comments on one post?!? One-zero-comma-zero-zero-zero?!? I know she was giving away a $500 gift card but DANG!) Her photography alone has a special sort of magic that most can only covet. Her storytelling and language is so free and honest and accessible. You literally forget that you’re reading words printed on a cold, unforgiving computer screen. Please, please, if you have not, check her out. (Though I’m almost sure you have, seeing as I’m a bit late in jumping on the bandwagon. Or maybe hers is a chuck wagon, eh?)

I might just have found a new girl-crush…

Insatiable

As of late, I've been experiencing an unsatiable lust for blogging - from reading and writing to commenting and even discussing with blogger friends. Want proof? It's not even 6:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning, when I usually linger in bed until at least 8:00 or 9:00!

I've recently read posts that not only drew commentary from me, but have stayed with me, haunting me with fears, reminding me of pains I'd forgotten, informed me of trials I've yet to experience. Some women's writing has stuck me as so bold and audacious that I could only wish to express myself as they do - stark and clear and no room for weenies OR misinterpretation.

And, inevitably, I begin to feel a bit of blog envy when I see sites with comments consistently in the double or triple digits. I wish them well, wonder how they did it, realize there's a VERY good reason why their sites have made it to the top of the barrel.

For so long (the years are getting hard to count exactly, but more than a decade's worth have expired) I have wanted to earn my "bread and butter" as a writer. For all that time I've managed to forestall my own success by doing one simple thing: NOT writing. My husband has chided me gently (and sometimes stringently), my parents have nudged and supported me, and my dear, dear friends have always encouraged me.

So here I am, feeling great that I've written more posts in the past six days than in the past six weeks, wondering who my audience is (partly because I've forgotten the password to check my statistics), and hoping that I can find the magical key to keep myself relevant in this ever expanding and contracting blogiverse.

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P.S. Thank the Heavens for Autosave - I thought at one point when I was adding the links that I'd locked the browser up and was going to lose this post. I recalled that Autosave was one the job, took a deep breath, and patiently waited to see whether the page I was trying to load was just taking longer than the expected 2.5 seconds. (So impatient am I before sunrise.) It took just under thirty mind-exploding seconds and finally "DONE" appeared. Phew!

Pregger Dreams

My dreams have always been fairly vivid. I recall a few recurring dreams from childhood that seem to gain new layers of meaning with each year that passes. It's also fairly well established that the fabric of women's dreaming changes while they are pregnant (a quick Google of preganancy dreams yielded over four million forty thousand hits).

So it's not surprising, especially given my experience with the Noodle Dude, that I would have a dream about the new baby not wanting to nurse. Well, it was more than just that, actually. I basically "awoke" (within my dream) to find that my child had been born, I had no recollection of the event, and somehow had NOT needed another C-section (as I had with Noodle, for breech positioning). That's startling enough, but then to be handed my infant, who was at least a few weeks old if not older and who began to suckle hungrily, but became almost immediately uninterested was very unnerving.

As a really weird component, the child was distinctly (and beautifully) mulatto. Though I've never dated anyone other than Caucasian men (for no particular reason) and am married to a Caucasian man, I've always thought that mulatto babies were the most beautiful I've ever seen and wanted one that shared my genes. Especially a boy. I couldn't determine in my dream whether my baby was a boy or a girl (I didn't defrock them), but I think it was a girl.

Since it was the first pregnancy dream this go 'round of which I have more than a vague recollection, I figured I might as well document it. The baby won't be mulatto (unless aliens have swapped out the DNA) and we don't know the baby's sex yet. I do very much hope that I am not "absent" from the delivery and I have sincere hopes that breast feeding will proceed better this time than it did last time!

Perhaps I will enlist Noodles' buddies to assist with keeping the unpleasant dreams at bay - how could the boogeyman fail to be frightened away by these two:

He got SHOT!

The Noodle Dude had his four-year-old check-up yesterday and everything went fine. Of course, it’s a bit embarrassing to admit that your child eats NO fruits or veggies beyond apples (sometimes), grapes (sometimes), and hummus (usually, when he’s not horking it up on me). Unless they’re hidden and I don’t always have that much energy. It’s vitamins for us for the time being.

He weighs 41.5 lbs. and stands 41.25 inches tall. I found the similarity in the numbers amusing, but couldn’t come up with anything humorous to relate it to. It’s not the same as when one has the same height and circumference. (The mental image this always gives me is that of Violet Beauregard once she's stolen Wonka's gum.) That’s my humor devolving to its 8-year-old boy state.

So he did well enough with the exam, I suppose. I mean, the doctor hardly spends any time doing anything except throwing questions out to you and clicking through computer screens. I think maybe I’ll save that rant for another day.

When the exam portion was over, he had to get some immunizations. I don’t want to go into the whole “to immunize or not to immunize” argument – I’ll feel morbidly wretched and heartbroken if it’s ever proven that he has gotten autism or any other malady from the shots. Anyway, we told him that he was going to get some shots and I explained to him briefly what shots are because the look on his face (perfectly placid) told me he didn’t have the slightest clue what that word meant. He still seemed unfazed.

Then I told him the nurse would put a Band-Aid over the place where he got the shot.

That elicited a look of sheer terror and even engendered a few tears. Band-Aids. Just plain old Band-Aids and my kid’s horrified, scheming to shoot out of the examination room as soon as the nurse returns.

Well, needless to say, he quickly changed his tune after the shots started. I hate having to hold my baby down on a table while the nurse holds his legs and jams those things in. I am at a loss of what else to do just now, though. I remember getting shots at that age and not be horrified – what did they do differently back then? It hurt me, but it wasn’t awful and nobody held me down. Even when I was given allergy testing at the age of 6 and they gave me 19 shots in my right arm and 25 in the left. (Yes, I distinctly recall that adventure.) Again, it hurt, but I just sat on the nurse’s lap and tried not to cry. While mangling her poor thumb.

Family trauma (hubby was there, too) and a trip to the reward treasure chest later, Noah was actually enjoying the Band-Aids. Some turn around master, that kid. He even called them “Wicked Cool"!

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As an aside, I spoke with some other parents who suggested that I hold Noah on my lap the next time he needs shots so that he can see it coming and not feel so forced. Boy, there are a lot of things to learn about parenting - and there's not even a TRIAL run!

Walk A Mile

As understanding and accommodating as I generally attempt to be, I believe I have been, shall we say, exposed to an individual for whose behavior I cannot find any logical explanation. This person has entered the sphere of a close friend who has no real choice but to accept that the person exists and will continue to exist within their sphere for the foreseeable future.

I'm having a rather hard time keeping tongue in check on this subject - I try not to make snap judgments of people, especially those whom I have not had the "pleasure" of meeting. I don't make a habit of slandering folk nor do I generally entertain those who do. While I truly hope that I do not ever get the "pleasure" of meeting my friend's acquaintance, I will continue to hope that some ray of sunshine falls on this seemingly pitiful soul's damnable ground so that it might illuminate some other path to a more pleasant future.

Sounds like a lot of kerfuffle and wordplay with a side serving of feel-good pseudo-pysch...

Here's what's really boggling my brain: How does a parent come to a point where they feel such vitriol and spite toward their one-time partner in child creation that they will put energy into recreating that incredible negativity within their own lovely offspring? Not to mention the corrosive nature of this type of energy has to the target of the vehemence or within the person themselves.

I confess, it's currently beyond my powers of walking a mile in another's shoes to remove myself so far that I could imagine the situation that would create the special sort of hatred that would bring me to that point. It just wouldn't happen. I would rather walk away and disappear from my dear, sweet hubby's life forever than create the hellish sort of situation this other person has chosen.

That leaves me with only one option: Choose to send out the love that the person so obviously needs and allow the Universe to guide it there if there's ever the tiniest foothold in which for it to grow.

Feeling a Bit Preggers

The worst part is the caffeine headache. I don’t make a habit of overly indulging in this particular addictive substance (or any other, for that matter) regardless of whether I’m pregnant or not. However, I have made a genuine effort to resist having more than one cup of English breakfast tea in any given day since I determined there was a small person on the way. (It’s about the only thing I’ve resisted, given my lack of morning sickness!)

I have a favorite brand that I cling to doggedly but rarely take any to work with me because I also like to have organic cane sugar and organic fat free milk with it, neither of which I can get in the decidedly-Southern cafeteria in the factory where I work. The tea bags are easily transported but the rest is sometimes always too much of a hassle to bring along. Heck, if I’m going to tote all of that in, I might as well bring along my water kettle, too! (An aside: If you’ve ever chewed gum in your life, you’ve likely chewed one of the products our factory manufactures.)

Ooo! Now I want a monkeh!

Back to the point – I am left with few options for alleviating an already-in-progress, head-thumping, neck-ache-causing “haddock”. They have some “tea” in the café labeled “English Breakfast” that is more like scented dirt masquerading as a brew-able beverage, which has been my last resort on a few miserable days. More often I turn to pop – that’s a carbonated, high-fructose corn syrupy, heavily-marketed swill for those of you unfamiliar with the colloquialism. It’s not like they stock Jones, Steaz, or Blue Sky – just run-of-the-mill Co-coller and Perpsi. (Not that I didn’t drink GALLONS of that stuff when I was younger, but then again, back then I thought that canned French-style green beans were the only way to go.)

By some marvel of the printed typed word, my impending doom-style aching has receded into a don’t-forget-I’m-here, significantly dulled annoyance. This is good, because I am still a ways away from my kettle. Though not as far, chronologically speaking, as I was when I began composing this post. Miraculous, the power of creation. It manifests in so many unforeseen ways.

I hereby attest to the following: No soda or tea-like comestibles were consumed during the writing of this text… Though a nearby bag of chips is somewhat lighter than it was earlier today. Go figure.

Oh! And I've revived my other blog... Just to entice you to wander over, I give you Cheese Stonehenge. Link city, I know - Enjoy clicking about!

Sleeplessness and Peep

So I dreamed about blogging all night long, waking more than once with title or subject in mind, the post composing itself in my half-consciousness. Darn the Blog Bug! That's my cue that something is bubbling up which needs release. If I don't heed the call now, it will begin to whine then it will start growling. Howling will follow shortly thereafter and finally... well, you've seen Alien, right? The parallel is apropos because a part of me expires each time I ignore or otherwise disregard the creative impulse. Now, woe is me that I didn't at least jot down some of the thoughts I had in those early, dark morning hours!

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On the Noodle Dude front, one of his (and our) favorite shows is a Discovery Kids Channel program called PEEP and the Big Wide World. The characters learn basic priciples of science in a very practical way. The music is great, the show is slow-paced and straightforward, no crazy barrage to the system. You can even watch daily episodes online, commercial-free.

I think Quack is our favorite (he's the one with the hat):

Blogosphere Tripping

Been spendin' a bit too much time in the blogosphere... So I went from here to here and finally ended up here. And wished with all my heart for an endlessly flushing commode. Gotta love scatological humor. Ok, well, maybe I AM an eight-year-old boy trapped in a thirty-three-year old pregnant woman's body. Deal.

Nightwish - "The Islander"

This is a recent - and lovely - video from a band I found a couple years ago through their song "Nemo". The two songs could hardly be more different, but both are compelling. I couldn't remember the band's name when I started hunting for them, only that they were a Nordic goth-metal band with a female lead singer. Not hard task there, right. Pshaw!

All I can say is, "Thank goodness for Google and dogged tenacity!"

Also, please check out Sigur Ros, an Icelandic band I found over at Zoe. Another set of incredibly talented musicians and video-sticians... What the heck do you call people who create videos?!?!

Wasteland

My husband is right. Our house is a mess. Not a gross mess, just a very... er, distracting mess. Want proof? Okay... (Not for the faint of heart or neat freaks - Dad, that's you, just in case you ever happen to read this post.)

And the perpetrator of this portion of the mess (surrounded by his domain):

Yeah, it's hard to be upset, just as it's hard to get up off the couch and do anything about the mess when one is in the first trimester of pregnancy. (Good heavens, what's the THIRD going to be like?!?!) I have a good friend, the one who reminded me it had been a while since my last post, who has three little ones. That means she's been through three third trimesters. Try even SAYING that three times fast! Oy!

So, to say that I'm living in a bit of a wasteland at the moment is the unfortunate truth. My dear, sweet husband has tried to keep the nomadic tribes of wandering toys and mountainous piles of laundry confined to relatively small areas, but I think his patience with me is wearing (read: has worn) a bit thin. From whence do I beg, steal or borrow the energy after a full day of work to come home and clean? My perennial monkey-on-the-back question. I don't have the answer yet, but on my way home from work this afternoon, half falling asleep at the wheel, I thought - as I often have - it doesn't have to be like this.

Any suggestions?!?!

Mmmm... Hummus

So, I had a choice tonight - do laundry, clean up the living room or make hummus.

I chose... hummus!

Here's the process in pictures:

First, gather the ingredients. I make a lean, mean hummus with no frills and no tahini. Don't like the flavor, don't put it in my hummus. I start with a good quality Extra Virgin Olive Oil. Er, uh, Houston, we have a problem.



Oh, whew.



Then some lemon juice. I'm not as picky in that respect.



Add some garlic. Hmmm... This needs to go on my next shopping list, too.



The "equipment".



Garbanzo beans. I had soaked these a few days ago and then I cooked them this evening.



Chunk it all in the food processor together.



And... whir... Check out the obstinate bean.



Messy goodness. We're almost there!



Voila! The finished product.



The best part? Even the pickiest kid in the world loves it!

Some Fascinating Math

While it was on my mind, I wanted to get something noted down. I began to think about some of the negative connotation words I use to describe myself in my thoughts (and occasionally out loud, too). The two worst offenders are lazy and mediocre. Procrastinator is another.

I guess “lazy” and “procrastinator” go hand in hand in terms of what I use them to describe. I tend to apply the “lazy” label to any time I do something other than housework or cooking when I’m at home. I can admit to being less than perfect in the housekeeping category, but I am often doing something that is enriching to my life or Noah’s life in some way other than those two narrow chores. I know they’re necessary, but so is living life.

So here’s some math I worked out…

I work an 8-hour/day, 40-hour/week full-time job – plus an extra 1 hr. 20 min. per day for to/from work drive and lunch. That means that 46 hours of my week are spent related to work.

Since I only get about 6.5 hrs. sleep on any given weekday, that’s another 32.5 hours well-spent. 46 + 32.5 = 78.5 of 168; that leaves 89.5 hours. Oh, I forgot sleeping on the weekend – 16 hours over two days – brings the balance down to 73.5. An hour of nap / rest time each afternoon, weekends included, 7 hours. Remaining hours: 66.5.

Oh, I forgot to factor in that in the morning on weekdays, it takes me about 45 minutes to get ready for work – 3.75 hrs. 62.75 hours remaining.

So – in any given week, 37.35% of my time (62.75 hours out of 168 total) – is all that's available for cooking, cleaning, caring for Noodle, caring for myself above and beyond the “necessities”, running errands (including grocery shopping), financial matters, familial and friendship development, homeowner’s obligations, and spiritual growth.

Hmm… I’m really not feeling like “lazy” applies anymore. What do you think?

I, Meme, Mine...

OK - I haven't memed much, but I couldn't even finish reading my bud's post before I had to hijack it for my own. Sue me. Also, I must be congratulated for posting twice in a day. Well, I don't have to have congrats... I guess.

Who was your FIRST Homecoming date?
When I was a senior I took a guy who was younger than me (a Sophomore, heaven forfend) to a homecoming dance - basketball - because I was a candidate... because I made my friends on the team nominate me. I was having a rotten "me, me, me" year.

What was your FIRST alcoholic drink?
I'm sure it was beer. I'm sure I was no more than 3. I'm sure I have had maybe 3 since. Foul stuff.

What was your FIRST job?
Eckerd Drugs. Cashier. Booooooring. Retail is not my forte.

What was your FIRST car?
1984 silver-blue Pontiac Firebird with T-tops and flip-up lights. Soooo redneck, soooo freakin' cool.

Who was the FIRST person to text you today?
Dunno - phone battery's dead. Probably no one.

Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning?
My hubby.

Who was your FIRST grade teacher?
Mrs. Johnson. Matthews Elementary, Virginia.

Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane?
I think it was probably from Georgia to Virginia - I think. From one parent to the other for a summer visit. Solo.

Who was your FIRST best friend and are you still friends with them?
Lisa Cutch. Or Kutch. She was missing her two front teeth for the year-and-a-half we were friends. I'd have no idea how to find her now. I wonder if she remembers me.

Who was your FIRST kiss?
Dav - Short for Davenport. Oh... my... goddess. Set the Gold Standard, for sure.

Where was your FIRST sleep over?
Maybe at my friend Shelly's house. She lived "catty-corner" across the street from my grandparents' house. My grama's term - I have no idea how to spell it.

Who was the FIRST person you talked to today?
My hubby. See the previous post today for more on that interaction.

Whose wedding were you in FIRST?
I think it was a friend I went to high school with, after we had both graduated from college.

What was the FIRST thing you did this morning?
Stretched, read a few pages of a book, got out of bed, washed my face... Ahhh, Saturdays.

What was the FIRST concert you ever went to?
Alabama. Not in Alabama. In Michigan.

FIRST tattoo and/or piercing?
Pierced my ears when I was 9, 10 and 11 (for a total of 5 holes). First tat was a sunshine on the inside of my right ankle.

FIRST foreign country you went to?
Canada. When I was fifteen.

FIRST movie you remember seeing in the theater?
Good heavens... "Goonies"?

When was your FIRST detention?
I never had one. (Yes, this echoes my friend's answer - it applies.)

What was the FIRST state you lived in?
Pennsylvania.

Have you ever called a person useless?
Perhaps. One of my favorite quotes from the Firefly episode "Shindig" - "Forgive my rudeness; I cannot abide useless people."

What object in your room is really important to you?
My notebooks, probably. They contain so many thoughts and notes and pontifications; I could never replace them.

Are you good at hiding your feelings?
Nah. They show on my face and in my posture.

Would you kiss an ugly person for $1,000?
This is a patently odd question. I think I'll have to pass.

What kind of sense of humor do you have?
Patently odd. But not in the same way as the previous question was patently odd.

Do you usually tell people when they hurt your feelings?
Not necessarily.

Do your initials spell out a word?
Mr. R

When is the last time you talked to an ex?
It must've been in like 2000. We had lunch - it was all on the up-and-up.

How often do you give high fives?
Every day - I have a three-year-old. He digs it.

What does the 10th text in your inbox say?
I can't look - My cell phone battery is dead... As usual.

Is your shirt new?
Yup. Mutts. Hot pink. From the Evil Empire. Sue me.

Where is the last place you went to go eat?
IHOP. This morning.

Have you bought any clothing items in the past week?
A couple shirts. They're cute, too. (My husband thinks they're sexy - can't beat that.)

Do you live near your ex boyfriend/girlfriend?
I think one of them is nearby (within 30 miles or so). One is in New York and another is in the D.C. area. No idea about any of the others.

If you had to sleep with a teacher from high school, who would it be?
Mr. Ahr. He was from elementary school. And I'm making the assumption that he would still look like he did then, since it's a ridiculous hypothetical anyway.

Has your house ever been TPd?
Nope.

Do you sing in the shower?
I would except for the fact that I usually shower while everyone else in the house is asleep.

Where is the last place you went shopping?
Publix - chips and dip.

Do you have the same name as one of your relatives?
Huh? The same last name. Oh, first name? Nope.

What kind of car does your sibling drive?
One of them has a sweet little Audi A6, one has a Ford Freestyle, one has a Nissan Sentra.

What kind of car do you drive?
A 1993 Honda Accord. My son calls it my "sweet little dirty red car".

Are you looking for a boyfriend/girlfriend?
You offering? (Hee hee. No, I'm happy as is.)

How old will you be in 8 months?
Thirty-four.

Do you prefer a call or a text?
Depends on the situation.

Did you enjoy your last kiss?
Mmmm-hmmm.

Have you ever been on television?
Yup. On the three news networks, during a "feel-good" segment featuring a class trip to a pizza joint. I was in, like, fifth grade.

How many cities/towns have you lived in?
Eeek! How could I count? My parents were Army first and afterward roving maniacs.

Do your parents drink coffee every morning?
I'm pretty sure they do because they always dig out our coffee maker when they visit.

Have you ever donated blood?
I don't think so - I keep getting tatoos around the time an opportunity arises. That's an automatic "thanks, but no thanks."

One song that's meaningful to you?
32 Flavors by Ani Difranco from the album Not A Pretty Girl

Impromptu Saturdays

Well I know it wasn't you who held me down

Heaven knows it wasn't you who set me free

So often times it happens that we live our lives in chains

And we never even know we have the key

from The Eagles "Already Gone"

We've had a remarkably wonderful day (see? here I am remarking about it!) so far and it started off with me going to pick Hubby up at the car repair place... only I went to the wrong place! About 15 or 20 miles in the opposite direction. Oh well.

Then we all (Hubby, Noodle and I) went to get breakfast at IHOP (mmm... buttermilk pancakes...). On our way back to the house, we decided to go to the lake. More precisely, to the dam. We walked down by the water then started down one of the trails. Forty-five minutes and two pee-on-a-tree breaks (the boys, not me) later, we turned back only because Noodle and I had poor walking shoes on and we were all getting thirsty.

I just love the spur-of-the-moment nature of our Saturdays together. Sure, we plan sometimes. Most often, however, we wake up and start our day with little thought for where it might take us. I lament not having the camera with us to at least have one measely shot to post, but we'll be back there soon enough. I'm sure of it!

Now, it occurs to me that I might ought to make a comment as to why the quote above really does apply to this post. No, really - hear me out. Had I allowed myself to get all frazzled or ticked off, in all likelihood I would have attracted more unpleasant events into the day. But I didn't. I kind of said a mental "oops!" and drove to the right place. I knew Hubby had a book to read so he couldn't have been too put-out. And besides, he just said, "Come get me at the car place." He didn't specify which car place and I made an assumtion. Heck, it was early (for a Saturday) and my brain was barely functioning when he kissed me goodbye. It was all good, though, no worries. I like no worries, leaves more energy for doing fun things like hiking by the dam!

Wine & Hummus... A Vacation Story

I was consuming those particular comestibles when I hauled my arse of the chair at my kitchen table in order to hike up the stairs and plop in the chair in front of the computer. I also spent a good deal of time on vacation enjoying the very same things.

I also mention them because it was wine in particular that must, must have been responsible for making one particular incident involving hummus on the day we arrived at our cabin tolerable... well, funny even. Anyone who knows the Noodle Dude is aware of his persnickety eating habits. In a truly peculiar turn of character, however, he actually loves hummus. So it was that we were enjoying the deck in front of our cabin, ingesting the aforementioned goodies when Noodle attempted a rather larger than manageable bite of the dip and, well, gagged himself and hurled all over me. It wasn't too bad - at least he missed my face. My dear sweet hubby and I couldn't help but dissolve in giggles. Cheap wine at its best, soothing the harsh events of life with overly sweet goodness.

The best part? Noodle went back to eating hummus later that evening! I thought I was done for sure on that score...

I'll be back soon with more vacation escapades, but first I have to locate drivers for my durn Handycam video camera. I forgot to take my blasted still camera with us (how? no idea...) so we were limited. It had some really interesting ramifications, though. You'll see!

(Hey Kit - I was one month to the day!! Ha-haa!)

Random recommendation: Cake's song "Jolene" from the album Motorcade of Generosity (1994)
The quality of this video isn't the best, but beggars, well, you know...

Oooh Girl

So, here I was, all ready to write a nice, scathing, ranty post after a fairly long hiatus. So, I log into my Google account so that I can get into my Blogger account and they've changed the layout. So, up pops a little menu with different offerings like CNN.com's latest news and what's been recently viewed on YouTube. At first I was irritated. Then I noticed the title of one of the YouTube videos...tee hee

"Ooh Girl: An Honest R&B Song"

There went my rant... right out the window...

After All

After all the time I spent getting an idea, going to my craft room to dig out my computer (because my husband is on the laptop downstairs and the iMac is turned off plus it handles this site in a funny way), putting away the crafting supplies that were covering the computer desk (which is in reality a drafting table, but the only thing I had on hand to serve the purpose), shooing Noodle out of the craft room (where he was trying everything possible to hold my attention), cleaning up Kitty poo (always seems to appear in the craft room when I'm not looking), going downstairs to get some asthma medicine to clear up the breathing problem that developed while I was cleaning, getting waylaid by my husband who insisted I call my family to find out if we're going to have visitors today (more potential cleaning) and finding some tolerable music to listen to while I type... I have nearly forgotten why I felt the need to come in here in the first place.

I recall it having, in an essential way, something to do with blogging and the amount of personal information we share in these rather public forums and whether it has anything to do with the fact that we spent eons in close-knit communities that were obliviated in the space of two generations (it's an estimate, don't knitpick). Is this our answer? Did we recreate our community space with the advent of the internet? How vastly different is this kind of communication, one-way, annonymous, fraught with the perils of the incongruity between those words we would speak and those words we type, the ideas that emerge when we have only our own minds winging along without interaction? I don't really have any answers and I do find solace in things other people write about, but then I always have found solace and comfort in books, which are not so very different in their mode of communication. Perhaps better thought out since more than one reads them before they are "posted", but you get the picture.

A complete aside: My son refers to letters that I post through snail mail as "email". This is his world now and I can only hope to remain relevant as the years pass and the technology advances. What can it be like, I wonder, for those few souls still living who were born early in the last century who had no electricity, no running water, no phones, TVs, computers, cars? What will my life be like when I reach an advanced age?

How random can a post get and still be cohesive?

Family

It's a totally simple yet utterly perplexing premise.

It's the people with whom you share genetic material, right? Maybe. Maybe not.

It's the people who raise you, right? Maybe. Maybe not.

When a concept can be defined with nearly unlimited variants, you have to wonder about the viability of the word to be able to convey a unified idea to anyone who hears it.

And yet. (Yes, I started a sentence with a conjunction. And I'll likely do it again.)

And yet... say the word family to anyone in the world and they will know know deeply. They will first think of their own family. If they can get past all the thoughts that process engenders, they may be able to conceive that your family (in all likelihood) differs a great deal from their own.

Beyond that, well, that's where all of life's greatest triumphs and tragedies reside, no? There are people related to me by blood for whom I have strongly negative feelings, while there are people I've known less than a quarter of my life for whom I have the fondest of feelings.

Your family is comprised of all those people you love - whether that be one person or a hundred and fifty. The people to whom you can turn for help, even if asking for that help is the hardest thing you've ever done. The people, regardless of their genetic composition, that form the basis of your life. You never know when they'll enter your life... or when they'll leave it.

I'd like to think I have something profound to say to close off this post, but I don't. I've just been thinking lately about all the folks I love and it's quite a list. A list I'm very proud of, at that!

Two Finished Projects and Some Fun

Like all the other (laundry) things I've been procrastinating, I've been holding on to pictures of some of my FOs for a while. (I recently discovered this term "FO" for Finished Object and its counterpart "UFO" for Unfinished Objects... me likey mucho.)

Here is a small afghan that I gave to a co-worker anxiously awaiting the arrival of his first-born:

I like it - it was soft and simple and easy and pretty. Doesn't get much better than that!

Here's my first full-sized afghan, for a good friend who needed something nice:

Again, it was simple, but it pleased me greatly to have the patience to finish something so large - it's about 6' long by 3.5' wide, my largest completed project to date.

And for a little levity...

I tortured my Noodle Dude by wiping water all over his face after we finished washing our hands. He hates it when his father or I do it... so we do it, every so often, just because.

(Yeah, it was as loud as it looks.)

Organized Doodles: A Friendly Little Game

I found this post over at Organized Doodles: A Friendly Little Game. I laughed so hard, really deep belly laughs, all the while ignoring my son's demands of, "What's so funny, Mommy?" Since he's only three-and-a-half and he doesn't really get poo humor (toot humor, well, he loves that), I didn't even try to relate the story. I can honestly say that we've had no poo stories of note in his whole life (so far) with the exception of being surprised at the sometimes prodigious amount of the stuff. But I appreciate having the oppportunity to laugh at other people's interesting adventures in kid-raising - Thanks Rick!

Feeling Artistic

The "Creative Spirit" has been lingering about our abode for the past several days (if she ever really left us at all). It's been a positive thing and a not-so-positive thing - we really have been avoiding the other sundry responsibilities that go along with homeownership and parenthood. As a result, we had to focus all of both of our attentions on the little Noodle Dude just to get him to eat one small serving of baked chicken (which he usually gobbles up without incident). It was frustrating in the extreme but I treated myself to a little R&R after the ordeal and finished this:

Wind-Fire

I'm not totally thrilled with the color job (or the photograph) but I am quite enamored of the media: pencil, sharpie marker, and watercolor pencils. These last are quickly becoming my favorite way to "paint". I haven't had much success with acrylics, oil pastels or tempera (see my previous attempt). The watercolor pencils, though, they seem easier and faster - and accomplish exactly the look I'm going for without a lot of theory or practice. Lazy? Maybe. Perfectly fine by an over-stimulated, high goal-setting wife/mom. So there.

I Love Ani

I have tried three times to embed a video of Ani DiFranco from an interview in Spinner without success. So I guess I'll have to settle for the link. She's a mommy now and the video of the same song ("Both Hands") from her website has her little munchkin in it. Cute. Enjoy!

Apparently, I'm a glutton for punishment. I just have to try again with her new song "Present/Infant":

Meme Avoidance

I'm not (really) ashamed to admit that I'm a meme virgin. I just Googled "What is a 'meme'?" I still don't get it. But I've been tagged (and I bet she thought I forgot), so I'll give it a go.

First, the rules:
1. Link to the person who tagged you. See above.
2. Post the rules on your blog. Here they are!
3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself. See below.
4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
5. Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

Six (sechs, six, sei, seis) Non-important Things About Moi

I like French. The language, the country where it originated, La Francophonie - and I occasionally butcher it with as much grace as I can muster. Excuse me while I do some more boucherie... Si vous parlez français, venez-ici pour un jeux j'ai trouver: http://www.xs4all.nl/~tluif/EngFrans2.html

I used to LOVE watching those crap kung fu movies where all the dialogue is dubbed and the barely existant plot is mostly related to some sort of vengance/retribution.

Hmmm... I'm trying to think of things I might not have mentioned to my friends, the ones most likely to even read this post...

I take on certain characteristics of the people around whom I spend most of my time. I don't realize I'm doing it right away and once I am aware, I usually just hope that the person I'm immitating doesn't notice. Or doesn't care.

I'm a little obsessive about daydreaming. I do it a lot. Really, I leave my mental back door open all the time, just in case a nice Spring breeze blows by. I'm sure it annoys people who are trying to talk to me about important stuff while I'm in la-la land. But I can't help it; I started doing it so long ago I can't/don't want to slam that door now.

I'm a late-blossoming Sci-Fi geek. I love Stargate in all its incarnations and especially Jason Momoa (Whoa momma, yummers - I'd swing from his dreds ANY day). I'm a Browncoat (Ay, ay, Captain Tightpants) through and through. But I never read any of the stuff as a kid.

Holy crap, I've been working on this post for a long time. Too many things to stop and search.

I was terrified, thanks to my great-grandmother, of indians when I was a kid. In particular, I was afraid that they would be hiding under my bed. When I was in fourth or fifth grade, I pushed the matress off my bed onto the floor between the bed and the outside wall so that (kid logic follows) if an indian came in the room to scalp me, he wouldn't see me and he would continue searching elsewhere for hapless victims. I never have completely discarded the fear that something might be lurking under the bed, but it no longer strikes me as being (insert war-whoop here)-type. More of the dark, insidious creature that likes to grab ankles sort.

Urgh - I'm crapping out on the last part of the meme - the blogger from from whom I received the tag and the blogger who tagged her are the only two bloggers I know personally. If I cultivate more friendships in the future, I'll come back to this section.

There you have it! Now, it's almost 10 p.m. and my Mr. Momoa is coming on in just a few minutes. Later!

Yes, We Can

To my mind, this is a beautiful example of the way music can send a message more powerfully than the unadorned words in the much same way that color brings a photo to life.

A "Gaggle" Got Me Going

Gaggle
–verb (used without object)
1. to cackle.
–noun
2. a flock of geese when not flying.
3. an often noisy or disorderly group or gathering
4. an assortment of related things.

gaggle. Dictionary.com. Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Random House, Inc. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/gaggle (accessed: February 05, 2008).

I looked this word up (on my fourth browser tab this sitting) because I was reading a newsletter from a link in my email that talked about writers establishing websites for themselves. I have had a couple blogs, this one included, that I have kept up only sporadically and a domain I have never used... Just like the last domain I never used prior to both the hosting and the domain running out. (Fifth browser tab opened to check and see who's using that old domain - hmmm... not terrible: http://www.craniumstudios.com/)

Anyway, I was thinking of my currently unused domain/hosting services and began to ponder text for it. What else does a writer do if not ponder text, eh? I envision some melding together of my like-minded friends' talents and in such a vision, some of the intro text might look something like this:

Our gaggle of gals boasts impressive talent in a variety of creative milieux. Passion for community in its myriad forms brought us together and we've all grown thanks to the experiences we've shared. Now we would like to share those experiences with a larger audience.

I know, it's raw, but I like the words "gaggle" and "milieux" - And I know what I mean, so let's just call this a rough draft. Maybe I'll lose the alliteration at the front end.

Okay, so here's the call (don't worry, I'm sure I'll make it again in person) - To all my Black Hats and other like-minded female folk, I would like to extend the invitation to launch Persnickety Me with me. I might need some whipping (won't that be fun?) to keep at it, but I need (on so many levels) to complete this one thing. I'm happy to find space for links, arts & crafts for sale, recommendations, articles, whatever floats anyone's boat. I'm learning the computer side so it might be very basic at first, but I've got a couple tricks up the proverbial sleeve.

See you all real soon!

Playing at Painter

I've been playing in my son's tempera paints this evening, enjoying myself, but wishing I had some actual idea of what I was doing. To bring it to this point, I then had to take a picture on my digital camera, upload it to Google's Picasa Web Album, then figure out how to embed it here. I'm sure plenty of folks have figured this out prior to me, but it felt like a bit of a coup for me.

coup n. - 1. a highly successful, unexpected stroke, act, or move; a clever action or accomplishment

I guess I was paticularly pleased with myself because it didn't take a day-and-a-half to figure it out, which indicates (to me, at least) that I'm finally gaining some proficiency with this blogging thing.

Sheesh - I'm sleepy. I'll leave my photo of my amateur painting up for all to adore (hahahaha) and climb in the bed... That's still unmade. At least the sheets are "hork-free"!

21 Days, Multitudinous Habits

What got me thinking about all the habits I would do well to improve upon? Kitty hork. Hork is our generic household term for anything that spews forth from the front end of our centuries old feline fellow. He donated a rather generous hork to the carpet in our front living room this morning before I could skid stocking-footed into the vicinity to alter his trajectory. Tragic.

Further pontification on the subject reminded me that we've been displaced from our bedroom for a whole week due to an unfortunate combination of Kitty hork and a poor habit of mine. Laundry. The great demon whichs spawns itself anew with each passing day. A dear friend says she rather enjoys doing this hellish task - here's her blog, where you can psychoanalyze that proclivity.

So the question becomes: on which poor habits should I first focus my attention? Laundry inattentiveness, nail-biting, procrastination, less-than-optimal eating/exercise routines, poor skincare regimine? (Yes, friends, there are others, but need I air all of my "dirty laundry" in order to make my point?) One of my son's favorite TV channels is running a campaign called Kick One, Pick One - Get rid of a bad habit and replace it with a good one. I think it's reasonably admirable; kids by in large watch an inordinate amount of television, something we've had limited success curtailing. Might as well be pumping SOME good messages into them!

I'm almost sure my husband would suggest that I tame the hulking laundry beast first. It too often occupies the majority of the floor space in our (quite large) master bathroom. One time when I cleaned it all up, Noah came in and cried, "Oh no!" because he missed his climbing pile! That's kind of sad. And don't suggest that I turn the job over to hubby - I promise, he does quite enough as it is. Plus, I would have to teach him how to do it and that just seems, well, pointless.

I think my steam has run out - apparently I need refueling. Had my tea already, but I've been up for two hours with no actual food. Plus, writing this post has been so interrupted by normal morning functioning that I've gone quite off course. Two loads of laundry are in progress, so I guess this could be considered Day 1 of 21. Let's see where we go from here!

More Matisyahu

Really, just totally freakin' nifty. (Plus, the Noodle-dude CRACKED UP when he started beatboxing. Made me play the clip about six times.)

January by the Lake

I decided today that it was rather unlikely that the outdoors would come to me and that instead I ought to go to it. So I bundled up the Noodle-dude and we drove to the dam in Buford. Some of the parks were closed, but we found one that was open. After meandering down a sloped sidewalk, we went off-road and hiked through some goose poo down to the water's edge. We climbed down some rather large boulders I am quite certain are supposed to be underwater (at least, when there's no drought about). We walked among hundreds of little empty shells belonging to some mollusks long since gone or dried up too. Noodle sang out how he loved the dirt and the trees and the little nuts and the moss. Made an Earth-child mommy's heart so proud. I think I have found a suitable (and MUCH cheaper) replacement for my unused gym membership!

Matisyahu

Sleep, Precious (Lost) Sleep

I should, by all rights, still be asleep. It's my day to sleep in, yet I am awake at my normal time. Why, you ask? My sweet old man Kitty. Decided he was going to sit beside our bed (on my side) and caterwaul. It's so rutting early that I had to adjust the monitor brightness since my eyes were being burnt from my skull. (Why that brings to mind the thought of solitary confinement is beyond me. Like I said, I should still be asleep.)

However, once awake, I started thinking. Always my downfall. I thought that I needed to start writing in my blogs more (hence the post). I thought about adding some of my crafting to this blog since my life is relatively without drama (just as I like it, thank you VERY much!). I thought that I'd like to fall back asleep but my brain refused to cooperate.

I've just gone over this post to check for errors - Oh the egregious blunders one commits while tired and typing in the dark! Hope I caught 'em all...

Not a Writer?

I haven't been in the mood to write for a while... Like going on over two months or so. Really one of the oddest things I've ever experienced. I just don't feel like it. It's not as though I haven't had ideas for stories or I haven't had time or anything. I just don't FEEL like writing.

And now my smallish person is making demands on me to prevent further exposition... Perhaps there will be more later.